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Chapter Text

It is not only the living who are killed in war. – Isaac Asimov

Connecticut 1873

“Here’s your room,” the woman said. “I hope it’s to your liking.”

I surveyed the tiny bedroom. Directly ahead of me was a window that faced the street. To the left sat a narrow bed flush against the wall. It was covered with a colorful quilt that had a pattern of doubled, interlocking rings. A wooden trunk sat at its foot. On the opposite wall was a straight-backed chair. A row of hooks hung over the chair and down the length of the pale green walls.

“It’s lovely, thank-you.” I smiled at Delly Mellark, who looked to be my age, but was already mistress of this fine house, married to the owner of the town’s bakery and mother to two children.

For a moment I was filled with envy at the life of this pretty woman with her heart-shaped face and golden hair and cheerful bearing. So different from me, a dark-haired, gray-eyed, crabby old maid. Would I ever lead such a happy life?

“I’ll let you get settled then. We’ll eat in an hour.”

She closed the door, leaving me alone to unpack and shake off my jealous thoughts.

It was a splendid room. Far nicer than any of the others I’d been assigned while teaching school. And over the past twelve years there had been many rooms in many towns across Connecticut. I’d moved so often because of the practice of keeping an instructor for only a single year.

My life as a teacher began when I was 16. I was glad to earn money to help my widowed mother and younger sister Prim. But they were long past needing my help now, as both had husbands to provide for them.

Whereas at twenty-eight, I was still single. It was a life I’d never expected. But the war had already been underway for a year when I began teaching children to read and write and do sums. So many men had died on both sides; I guess there was no one left for me; although that excuse didn’t explain my mother’s and sister’s good fortune.

As I slowly unpacked my bag, my thoughts centered on the Mellark family in whose home I’d be living for the coming school year.

Phyl Mellark was president of the school board. He and his wife Delly had two children, a seven-year-old son and a four-year-old daughter. Delly had also mentioned that her husband’s brother Peeta was part of the household, along with a housekeeper named Sae.

Judging from the size of this magnificent house, which was three stories tall, I imagined Phyl Mellark’s bakery must be very successful.

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. “Katniss, dinner is ready.”

I sprang off the bed, where I’d laid down to rest after I put my things away. I glanced at myself in the mirror that hung near to the door, patting my hair to be sure my braid wasn’t falling down, and then opened it. Delly Mellark was waiting for me.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, Delly called out to the two men that sat in the parlor to the left. They both stood.

I recognized Phyl Mellark from my interview. He was tall and lean, giving off a distinguished air with a few strands of gray at the temples of his ash-colored hair.

Beside him was a second, younger man. Shorter than Phyl with a stocky build, he had the most startling dark-blue eyes, the same color as the uniform the Union soldiers had worn. His eyes, with their long, thick lashes, contrasted nicely against his fair hair. I would have called him handsome if he hadn’t been scowling.

“You know Phyl already,” Delly said. “I’d like to introduce you to his brother Peeta.”

“Hello,” I said, giving Peeta a shy smile. His attractive appearance flustered me as I considered that we would be living in the same household for the next eight months.

But instead of returning my smile, Peeta’s scowl only deepened. He glanced at me for only a moment before his eyes flitted away, immediately putting to rest any daydreams I’d been on the verge of concocting.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Delly throw her husband a frustrated look. “Why don’t we all go to the dining room,” she suggested.

I followed her in, noting Peeta’s decided limp as we positioned ourselves around the table. His foot made a thumping noise on the wood floors as he walked. It made me wonder if his black mood was the result of pain from an injury. Perhaps he’d injured his foot.

The table was set for four. Phyl sat at the head and Delly at the foot. I sat on Phyl’s left. Peeta sat across from me.

An older, heavy-set woman carried the meal in on platters. “Thank you, Sae,” Delly said.

My eyes grew big at the abundance of food Sae set onto the table. Roasted chicken, browned potatoes, carrots simmered in a sugary glaze. Biscuits and soft yellow butter. Far more food and definitely more variety than I was used to, but maybe the Mellarks ate better on Sunday evenings.

“How was your journey?” Phyl asked.

“Pleasant,” I answered.

“Good. We’re so pleased that you accepted the position Katniss. You were the most qualified candidate with so many years of experience.”

Quiet conversation followed as we ate. I listened politely as Delly and Phyl spoke of the weather and their children, Rye and Willow, who were currently visiting Delly’s parents’ farm in the countryside.

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning to pick them up,” Phyl said. “We should be back by dinnertime.”

“I planned to go to the schoolhouse and get things ready for the first day,” I broke in. School began on Tuesday morning.

“I’ll give you the key before we leave then,” Phyl replied.

Peeta was not part of the conversation at the table. He didn’t seem hungry. Instead he shoved the food around on his plate.

After the meal, Delly invited me to join the family in the parlor. It would have been a good opportunity to get to know them, but I was tired. I had been up since before dawn.

Instead I excused myself and returned to my room. I undressed and readied myself for bed, falling asleep within minutes of reading a page of my book.

A loud cry woke me. “No Rye, no. Keep breathing.” Then something hit the wall beside me, causing my bed to shake. Nervously I pulled the blanket tighter around me.

Delly had mentioned that Peeta and the children shared the same floor as me, while she and her husband were housed on the top floor. I supposed Peeta was in the next room. He must have had a nightmare.

His shouts were over quickly, but still it took a while for sleep to return.

Uncertain as to what time the family ate breakfast, I stayed in my room the next morning until my stomach growled in pain. Finally I went downstairs, thinking I would sit in the parlor and wait for the others. But I caught sight of Sae in the dining room setting out a platter of biscuits.

“I can help you with the table,” I told her.

“Follow me, then.”

I followed the woman into the kitchen that smelled of bacon and fried eggs.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“I did, but I was woken up with shouts in the night.”

Sae grimaced. “It must have been Mr. Peeta. He hasn’t had nightmares in years. I wonder what’s brought them on now.”

She must have seen the look of curiosity on my face because she explained more.

“He was injured during the war and the middle brother, Mr. Rye, was killed. He’s had a difficult time.”

That explained his limp and his shout about Rye. I had thought he was calling out to his nephew. But still the war had ended eight years earlier. Shouldn’t he be better now?

“Does he work in the bakery with his brother?”

“He does. It’s a shame because he’s wasting his talent there.”

I wanted to ask more. What talent did Peeta have? But Sae had already picked up a platter of eggs. She’d handed me a pot of coffee to carry out to the table.

Phyl and Delly arrived and I sat down to eat. Apparently Peeta had left at dawn to go to work. After a hearty breakfast, Phyl gave me the key to the schoolhouse. I set off even before he and his wife left.

The livery stable was the last business in town. The schoolhouse was located a quarter-mile past it. It was a small wood building. A large apple tree stood next to it, its full branches laden with red fruit. I picked an apple to add to the lunch Sae had packed for me.

I walked around the schoolhouse completely; taking note of the privy in back, which fortunately appeared clean, and the hand pump for water on the side of the building. Then I unlocked the door. Immediately the dust rose and I began sneezing. The building must have stood empty since school ended in the spring.

A tiny room was set off to the right at the entrance that had hooks on the wall for coats. On the left side stood a dirty stove and a small woodpile. Ahead of me were four rows of table-type desks with bench seats. A large aisle ran up the middle of the room. My own, large desk sat in front on a raised platform. A handbell was on top of it, along with some chalk, an old geography book, and a Bible. Behind it a blackboard was bolted to the wall. A small American flag with 37 stars, one for every state in the Union, was placed in a wall holder in the corner.

Two windows were set into the walls, one on each side of the room. I put down the satchel with my lunch in it and opened the windows to air out the schoolroom.

My day was spent cleaning. I found a bucket and scrub brush in the cloakroom, along with a broom. I dusted and swept first, before filling the bucket with water at the outside pump and washing the windows, the desks, the floor, and lastly wiping down the stove.

I’d been told to expect anywhere from twenty to fifty students and I wanted to be ready for them.

While I worked, my thoughts wandered. I was curious about my new students, about the new town I’d moved to, and about the Mellark family in whose house I was staying. But eventually my thoughts circled back to Peeta. What was that handsome man hiding? Surely he must be in considerable anguish to be suffering nightmares. With his reserved manner and dark scowls he seemed to be like a character straight out of a book by Jane Austin.

It was late afternoon when I walked back to the Mellark house. I entered by the kitchen door around to the side. Sae was fixing dinner.

“The children are sick,” she announced. “Mr. Phyl has returned, but Miss Delly has stayed behind to help her parents care for them.”

My heart sank. I’d been looking forward to meeting Rye and Willow. Now with Delly gone, I’d be dining alone with the two Mellark men. Meals would be awkward to say the least.

Dinner was tense. I had the strangest thought that the two brothers had been arguing before they came to the table because they were throwing dark looks at each other throughout the meal. When Phyl asked me about my day at the schoolhouse, I noted that Peeta glared at his brother while I spoke.

A few times, I caught Peeta studying me while I ate. Each time his eyes, that were lined with dark circles, flitted away immediately.

As soon as the meal was over, I excused myself saying I wanted to rest up for the first day of school. But truly I was eager to be out of the brothers’ presence.

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“I won’t leave you Rye. I promise I won’t.” The shouts woke me up again. I sighed and pulled my pillow over my head willing myself to fall back to sleep, hoping Peeta’s nightmares weren’t a regular occurrence.

I almost mentioned it to Sae again the next morning, but didn’t as the thought made me feel like a child telling tales. Besides what could she do about it? I ate in the kitchen while she packed another lunch for me.

Both Phyl and Peeta had already gone to the bakery.

“Bakers start before dawn,” Sae explained.

I wondered that Peeta was getting much sleep at all.

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A low-lying branch had broken from the trunk of the apple tree and lay on the ground when I arrived at the schoolhouse. I went inside, propping the door with a stone and then opening the windows. It was already warm.

Two children, a dark-haired boy about ten and his younger sister about six arrived first.

“I’m Miss Everdeen,” I introduced myself. The boy introduced himself as Willie; his little sister was Sarah.

I helped the children find desks to fit them, placing Sarah at the front of the room and Willie to the middle. More children trickled in, so many that eventually I asked them all to take a seat, any seat.

“I’ll assign seats when everyone gets here.”

The last students to arrive were much older than the others. A muscular, fair-haired youth named Cato Ableman who said he was nineteen, and two young women, Clove Willis and Glimmer Smith, who were fifteen and sixteen respectively.

It took me half the morning to devise a seating arrangement, with the younger children in front and the older children in back. Afterwards I wrote some arithmetic problems on the blackboard ranging from easy to difficult and asked the students to solve as many as they could. The children wrote out their answers on slate chalkboards they’d brought with them from home.

Once they set to work, I called each child to my desk separately to read so I could determine what they knew. Some children had brought McGuffey readers from home; others used the Bible that sat on my desk.

At noon I rang the hand bell to get their attention. “We’ll be breaking for lunch.”

The students collected their tin pails, which had been placed in the cloakroom and went outside to eat.

I sat at my desk and ate the lunch Sae had made. A cheese sandwich and a sugar cookie.

I’ll end up plump after boarding with the baker’s family, I thought.

The afternoon flew by quickly. At 4 p.m. I rang the bell again to announce the end of the day.
“See you tomorrow,” I called out as the students streamed out the door of the building.

Once they were gone, I shut the door and cleaned up, singing as I swept the floor and dusted the desktops. My first day had gone well.

I walked home, tired but satisfied.

Just past the livery stable was the general store. I had stopped to look at a hat in the window when I heard a thumping sound behind me. I turned but no one was there.

Later I heard the noise as I got closer to the Mellark house. I turned around. Again, no one was there.

I knocked on the kitchen door. Sae let me in. As soon as I got inside I heard the front door slam. Then someone went upstairs, thumping all the way.

“It must be Peeta,” Sae said. “He’s a bit late getting home today.”

My jaw dropped. Could Peeta have been following me? Why?

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“How was school?” Phyl asked at dinner.

“It went quite well,” I replied.

“No problems then?” Phyl repeated.

“No.”

I lowered my head to eat, but not before noticing Phyl give Peeta a smug look.

After the meal ended, I joined the men in the parlor, not to visit but because Phyl had mentioned a book at dinner that he thought would be useful in teaching American history to the students.

He pulled the book from a bookcase hidden by a door. The shelves were filled with an extensive collection of books on a broad range of topics. The school board president apparently had more interests than bread and cake.

I sat down in an upholstered chair to look at the table of contents. As Phyl spoke of how he came to own the book, I became aware of Peeta drawing in a black sketchbook.

A natural curiosity came over me. I couldn’t help but ask, “what are you drawing?”

Peeta’s pencil froze in place, but he turned his notebook toward me.

I gasped in admiration. The pencil sketch was a perfect likeness of the schoolhouse, complete with the apple tree with the broken limb. It was the exact scene I’d come upon that morning.

“It’s so lifelike.”

“I was out walking last week and it stuck in my mind. I wanted to get it down.” His voice had a shaky quality to it, like he was nervous speaking to me.

“You have a remarkable memory.” But I was confused at his outright lie. Peeta must have been to the schoolhouse today to draw that scene, because the tree limb was secured to the trunk yesterday.

“My brother is a very talented artist,” Phyl stated. He smiled at Peeta only to get a scowl in return.

An idea suddenly occurred to me. “Do you think, would you consider giving a drawing lesson to the students?”

Peeta’s cheeks grew red. “I’m not very good and anyway I’m needed at the bakery.”

Phyl snorted and Peeta shot him a dark look.

“What an interesting idea Katniss,” Phyl said. He turned to his brother. “I’m sure I could spare you for an hour or so Peeta.”

Peeta closed his sketchbook and stood up. “I’ll think about it.”

He left the room abruptly.

“You’ll have to excuse my brother; he’s modest about his drawing ability. But I do agree that it would be good for him to work with the students.”

“I think they’d enjoy it very much.” I supposed Peeta’s artistic skills were what Sae was referring to when she said he was wasting his time at the bakery. Even though my eye was unskilled, his simple sketch was extraordinary. It looked as good as any that appeared in the pages of Harper’s New Monthly Magazine.

The next couple of days passed quickly. My students seemed to be settling in. When I got to school one morning, I noticed that the apple tree had been picked clean. I was very glad for it. I didn’t want the children throwing apples at each other at recess.

It was heartwarming to see friendships developing among the younger children, although the older pupils, namely Cato and Clove gave me cause to worry. The pair appeared to be sweet on each other. I was sure I had interrupted a kiss between the two when I walked into the cloakroom unexpectedly after lunch.

The pair had jumped apart quickly. “You’re supposed to be outside,” I said firmly.

Clove had looked at the floor and turned beet red. Cato smirked at me. I stepped back nervously, a warning bell going off in my head. I didn’t want to lose my job as a result of these two. I’d have to keep a close eye on them.

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On Friday evening, Phyl announced at dinner that he would be picking up Delly and the children the following day.

“It will be good to finally meet your children,” I told him.

“They’ll be excited to meet you as well,” Phyl said with a smile. “We’ve never had the teacher board with us before.”

He looked to Peeta. “You’ll be all right at the bakery then without me.”

“Yes.” Peeta’s voice was sharp and dismissive.

I ate breakfast in the kitchen with Sae the next morning. Phyl had already left and Peeta was at the bakery.

I had planned to spend my day exploring Panem. Granted it wasn’t that big, but I thought to see the shops. I’d noticed a small meadow from the train window when I’d arrived. I figured I could bring a lunch and my book and rest there in the afternoon.

The shopkeepers in Panem were friendly. It seemed most everyone had heard of me and was eager to greet the new schoolteacher. I spent a while talking with the owners of the general store, Thom Davis and his wife Leevy.

Thom looked to be about thirty, the sleeve of his right arm pinned up to his shoulder to indicate a missing limb. That fashion of showing off a war wound had sadly become common over the past decade. I wondered at how his wife managed with her husband’s injury. But the pair seemed to manage just fine. They had a young son that looked to be about three years old. He clung to his mother’s skirts as I spoke with his parents.

Before I left them, I purchased several peppermint sticks. While some teachers might beat their students with a wooden paddle to get them to do their work, over the years I’d discovered that rewarding students with candy made them more attentive by far.

Eventually I found myself outside the Mellark Bakery. It was a two-story building with a window in front and sign that read `Mellark’s’ over the door.

Peering through the front window, I saw a man at the counter waiting on a customer. I wondered if Peeta was in the back.

I opened the door and went inside. The customer passed me to go out carrying a loaf of bread wrapped in heavy paper and tied with string.

“Can I help you miss?”

I looked at the display counter of baked goods that sat lined up on the counter in front of him.

“A cookie please.” I pointed to a plate of sugar cookies. They were certainly becoming a favorite of mine.

The man reached for one, wrapped it up, and handed it to me. At that moment, Peeta came in from the back room. A look of surprise appeared on his face, but he quickly recovered.

“Hello Miss Everdeen,” he said. “Why are you here?”

I was taken aback by his formality. Everyone else in the Mellark household called me by my first name.

But even more, the phrasing of his question irritated me. I had just as much right as any other person in town to visit the bakery. “I was out walking. I thought I might see your family’s shop.”

I opened my coin purse to pay for the cookie, but Peeta waved it off.

“We can’t take your money.”

My temper flared. “Why not? I can afford to pay for a cookie. I may not be paid much, but I do receive a salary.” I took a coin from my purse and slammed it onto the counter, turned and fled.

I made my way to the meadow and sat beneath a tree, leaning my back against its rough trunk. The leaves were turning brown, but I was glad of its shade, as the day was warm for fall.

Opening the satchel I’d brought, I took a bite from the sandwich Sae had made for me, all the while fuming about my encounter in the bakery. When I was done eating, I pulled out my book. I tried to read but my mind kept straying back to that scene.

Why had I flown off the handle? Peeta hadn’t been rude, but there was something about his person that irritated me. His scowls, his standoffish behavior, his lie about the schoolhouse sketch. I shut the book and fretted.

I lifted my head and glanced across the field and my heart nearly stopped. Peeta was standing with his sketchbook open, studying something in the distance. He lowered his head and began to draw.

My first thought was that he’d followed me, but that seemed silly. I doubted he even knew I was hidden away in the shade under a tree.

Could I leave unnoticed? I stood up to go, but at that moment Peeta turned his head, catching sight of me. I sighed. It was plain to me that I would have to apologize for my bad manners. I couldn’t spend the rest of my stay at his house avoiding him.

I walked across the meadow. “I’m sorry about the way I acted in the bakery. I know you were trying to be kind and I was rude.”

For the very first time in my presence, Peeta smiled confirming my first thought of his appearance. He was handsome, exceedingly so.

My cheeks grew pink.

“Are you always so prickly?” he asked.

I was appalled at his words. The man hadn’t smiled once in the last week. He’d barely spoken to me or even to his own family. What right did he have to call me prickly?

In my best schoolteacher voice, I chided him. “It is usual to say `you are most welcome’ when receiving an apology, not insult the person asking forgiveness.”

Peeta laughed heartily, showing off his perfectly-matched, white teeth. “You’re right Miss Everdeen. I’m most sorry to have offended you.”

“Thank-you. And call me Katniss. That’s my name. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

I took a step.

“You needn’t run off so quickly, Katniss.” Peeta reached his hand out and touched my forearm to stop me.

I nearly gasped as a thrilling jolt ran through me. It made me freeze in place.

Peeta pulled his hand back as quickly as if he’d touched fire. He mouth flew open in surprise. But he shut it quickly, and cleared his throat. “I’d like to talk to you about that drawing lesson.”

“All right.”

“There’s a fallen log over there we can sit on.” He pointed across the meadow near the tree line.

I walked beside him on his right side, taking note that his left leg hardly bent as he walked. It explained the dull thump that sounded when his left foot hit the ground. I supposed it was his leg, rather than his foot that was hurt in the war.

“What exactly would it entail Katniss?” Peeta asked once we were settled, his left leg resting straight out in front of him.

The sound of my name from his lips caused my heart to beat a little faster.

The man is insufferable, I reminded myself.

But I couldn’t remember any man ever making me so jumpy.

I took a deep breath to compose myself. “I was thinking you could show the students how to draw something simple, a likeness from nature, perhaps a bird or a plant. Isn’t that what drawing teachers do?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Peeta said. “I’ve never had any formal training.”

“Truly? But your drawings are so well-done.”

Peeta’s face lit up at my compliment. “Thank you. I’ve been drawing since I was a child. I decorated the cakes in the bakery and my father thought I might have talent so he bought me a sketchbook and some pencils.”

“Well, he was certainly right about you having a talent for it.”

He beamed.

“If I may be personal, how is it that you’ve never pursued art as a living?”

The smile disappeared from his face. “Things changed after my time in the war.”

“Yes the war changed things for a lot of people,” I agreed. “Did you serve long in it?”

“Just two weeks.”

My eyes grew big. The war had lasted four years.

Peeta must have noticed my confusion. “Two weeks was long enough for my brother to die and for me to be…”

“I’m so sorry,” I blurted out. He certainly had reason to suffer nightmares after experiencing such a terrific loss over such a short span of time.

We both fell silent. I was ready to get up and leave thinking our conversation had ended when Peeta asked, “how is it that you remain teaching school for so many years? I would have thought a woman as pretty as yourself would be married with a family of her own by now.”

I couldn’t tell if he was genuine in his question or mocking me especially when he called me `pretty,’ but the words flew out of my mouth before I could even think. “I haven’t met the man yet who is looking for a prickly woman.”

Peeta roared in laughter. “You’re funny Katniss.”

I shook my head at him, a tiny smile forming on my lips at seeing this side of Peeta. He was an altogether different person when he wasn’t scowling. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

The meal was held off in anticipation of Phyl, Delly, and the children arriving. But after an hour and a half, Sae called Peeta and I to sup. “I don’t know when they’ll be getting here. You might as well eat now.”

For the first time since I’d arrived, Peeta and I had a conversation at the dinner table. I steered clear of the war, and instead asked him about his nephew and niece. His eyes lit up as he spoke about Rye and Willow.

“It will be good to have them back home,” Peeta said. “They bring life to the house.”

I wondered why Peeta was still unwed, without children of his own. His happy words about his young relatives, made me think he would be a fine father.

It was late by the time we finished eating. I returned to my room and fell asleep, but woke up before dawn to the sound of loud pounding. At first I thought someone was thumping on my bedroom door, but then I realized it was probably Peeta’s door. After a loud crashing sound, making me wonder if Peeta had fallen to the floor in a hurried attempt to open it, I heard his door open.

“Peeta, Pastor Odair is here. He’s waiting to talk with you in the parlor.” Sae sounded as if she’d been crying and immediately my heart raced.

Had something happened to Phyl and his family? They were expected home last evening.

Peeta mumbled something and the door shut. Within minutes, he left his room to go downstairs. I got up, lit my lamp, and dressed as well, my thoughts running in all directions.

I was pinning up my hair when a soft knock sounded on my door. I opened it to find Sae dressed in her robe and crying.

I pulled the woman into my room. “What’s happened?”

“It’s Miss Delly. Yesterday morning her skirt caught fire.”

I gasped, horrified at the image of that charming woman ablaze. “Is she all right?”

Sae shook her head. “No, she was burned badly. She died last evening, with Mr. Phyl and the children by her side. Mr. Phyl sent news via a farmhand to Pastor Odair who came to tell us.”

I took a sharp breath, stunned at the tragic account. “What can I do to help?”

She shook her head in confusion and burst into tears. “I can’t believe Miss Delly’s not coming back.” I put my arms around Sae to comfort her.

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Later, Sae and I sat at the dining table and drank strong coffee as we listened to Peeta describe the arrangements for the burial. The smiling man who had been so pleasant the night before was gone. This Peeta was sober and grim-faced. Delly’s parents had insisted that she be buried at the family plot on their farm. Apparently Phyl had agreed to it, so Peeta and Sae would be leaving the next morning to travel to the farm for the wake and the funeral.

“You can stay with the Odairs while we’re away,” Peeta told me.

“All right,” I said.

“We should be back in a few days.”

The three of us separated the rest of the day, each of us trying to make sense of Delly’s untimely death. I had only just met the woman and found myself feeling guilty for envying her fine life, never imagining it was soon to be over.

Later that evening Pastor Finnick Odair, a most charismatic and strikingly attractive man, returned to comfort us. He brought along his wife Annie. While my eyes were dry, Sae’s and Peeta’s were red-rimmed with sorrow.

Pastor Odair read from the Bible and talked to us of heaven. But I think all of us were too earthbound at the moment to care, too sad at Delly’s loss and worried about the effect her death would cause to her children and husband.

I went home that evening with the Odairs after packing clothes for the next few days. It seemed the pastor had decided to travel with Peeta and Sae. I was to keep his wife company.

I slept next to Annie that night. Her husband slept on the settee as he would be leaving at sunup and didn’t want to disturb his wife. He was already gone when I woke up. Annie and I had a quick breakfast and I set off for school early as the parsonage was located farther away from the schoolhouse.

Word had spread about Delly’s death, and I was stopped as I walked by several townspeople who were curious about the news. I kept my answers simple because truly I didn’t know any more than the basic facts.

The next three days passed quickly for me. I was kept busy with school and entertained in the evenings by Annie Odair’s tales about the inhabitants of Panem. She spoke of the Mellark family at length, filling the holes in my understanding about them.

“The bakery was supposed to go to Rye,” Annie said. “Phyl was a student at Yale. He had political ambitions. And Peeta wanted to be an artist.”

“He is very talented,” I interrupted.

She nodded, and continued. “But then Rye turned eighteen and volunteered to fight, likely for the adventure, and Peeta ran off with him, likely to get away from his mother.”

My lips automatically pursed as my mind tried to make sense of her story.

Annie misread my thoughts and laughed. “The boys’ mother was a real terror. Even her husband feared her.

“No,” I explained. “I thought Rye was older than Peeta.”

“Oh, he was,” Annie said. “Peeta was just sixteen when he volunteered.”

Sixteen? He was just a boy, not even of legal age yet.

Annie continued. “Rye and Peeta were with the 16th volunteer regiment. They got on the train and went straight to the battlefield. They were only taught to load their muskets the day before the battle at Antietam. Rye was killed straight away and Peeta was injured.”

Annie so easily prattled off the facts because they were history to her, but the information was new to me and made me heartsick.

“Did Phyl serve as well?”

“No, with one brother dead and the other wounded, his parents forbid him to go. Later when President Lincoln called for the draft, the Mellarks paid for a substitute.

“But Phyl’s life was impacted as well,” Annie said. “His mother insisted he quit school and take over the bakery. And Peeta, well I suppose he gave up because of guilt, and injury.”

“You certainly know a lot about the Mellarks,” I said.

“Delly and I were close,” she said. “She was sweet on Rye first, but after he died…” Her voice dropped off.

The thought sobered me considerably making me curious at the nature of Delly’s marriage to Phyl. Had it been a love match or something both fell into because of grief? I looked at Annie suddenly and realized that she, too, must be grieving the loss of her friend. “Why didn’t you go to the funeral as well?”

“I’m expecting.” She whispered it, as if by saying it aloud she might be jinxed. “Finnick didn’t want me to take any chances by traveling. I’ve lost too many babies already.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling guilty for thinking that Annie had a near perfect life being married to the handsome preacher.

Would I ever learn to stop envying others and be happy with my own life? Every person had a cross to bear.

Pastor Odair was home when I arrived at his house Wednesday after school. I joined him and Annie for an early dinner and he told us about the events of the past few days and how everyone was holding up.

“I suggested that you board with another family,” the pastor continued, “but Phyl was insistent that you stay with them through the end of your contract. He didn’t want to make any changes in your living arrangements.”

It baffled me that Phyl Mellark would be concerned about my welfare in the midst of his family’s grief. Surely he had more important things to be concerned about now than my living arrangements.

But shortly after I moved back to the Mellark’s house, I got a good idea of why Phyl had wanted me to continue to board there. Without Delly, he had no one to care for his four-year old daughter Willow during the day. Sae was busy with the upkeep of the house and cooking all the meals.

“I’d like to enroll Willow in school,” Phyl told me. “She’s bright and I believe she would do well to keep her mind occupied.”

While she seemed a most intelligent child, it was unusual to have one so young in the classroom. Generally the youngest student was five years old at the very least.

“All right,” I agreed with some hesitation. Truly I didn’t have much choice. How could I refuse the school board president’s request when I was boarding in his house?

So the routine of my day changed completely. Rye and Willow walked to school with me every morning and walked home with me every evening. Rye bore a strong resemblance to his mother with his heart-shaped face and cheerful nature, while Willow reminded me of Phyl, being more serious. Both children were quiet and didn’t talk much and I wondered at how they had changed after their mother’s unexpected death.

I was no stranger to that situation. My father had died when I was eleven in a mining accident. I had buried my grief deep inside refusing to talk about it or even think on it. But it never went away, in fact, I often thought it was the reason for the resentfulness and jealousy I often experienced around anyone whose life appeared better than my own.

It pained me to think that Rye and Willow might suffer the same as I had. So I made a point of talking to them of their mother as we walked. I had hardly known the woman, but I got to know her well as I asked the children all sorts of questions about her. What was her favorite food? What was her favorite color? What did she do for fun?

In return I told the children about my father and talked of his interests. Surprisingly our walks together became a pleasurable time that was healing to my spirit as well as, I think, to their own.

About a month after Delly’s death, both children burst into laughter at a story I told them about my sister’s goat Lady. The creature had eaten my mother’s best hat, leaving her to resort to a desperate solution, turning a basket upside down and attaching a ribbon to it so she had something to cover her head for church.

Peeta was with us that day as we walked back from the schoolhouse, as he appeared a few times a week to walk the children home. Over the laughing heads of the children he gave me a smile that seemed so genuinely appreciative of my efforts that unexpected warmth rushed through me.

In the weeks following Delly’s death, I had found myself growing closer to him, likely because we were in each other’s company so often. Phyl was grieving for Delly and he spent many evenings alone in his room, leaving Peeta and I to entertain the children while Sae cleaned up after the meal. I read stories to them, while Peeta taught them how to build castles from cards, and then to draw.

Peeta had also visited the school to give the students an art lesson. The school board had generously donated a sheet of paper for each student to use. I had asked that everyone bring a pencil from home. Peeta had led everyone out of the schoolhouse and taken us on a short walk to an oak tree just beyond the schoolhouse. Its branches were bare save for a few stubborn brown leaves that clung to it.

He directed the students to study the tree first by walking around it completely. Then they were to take a position and observe how the sunlight fell through the branches.

“The light is most important,” he said, catching my eyes. “It makes you see everything more sharply. It determines where your pencil lines will be soft on the paper and where your lines will be dark.”

The students set to work, holding their paper fast against their slate board for support. Peeta walked around making a few comments, occasionally taking a student’s pencil from him or her to draw a line in place. I marveled at what a natural teacher he was.

When they were finished, I tacked the students’ work onto the walls of the schoolhouse. I had planned a recital for families to attend later before the weather turned cold. The artwork would be a fine decoration to the building’s interior.

The recital in mid-November was a success. We had a decent attendance by the townsfolk who packed the schoolhouse to listen to the students recite poetry and even dramatic scenes from Shakespeare’s plays, although I suspected the refreshments, which included cookies from the bakery, helped to draw in the audience too.

“Well done,” Phyl praised me as we all walked home after the show. I think he was pleased at his children’s contribution, a joint recitation of The Arrow and the Song by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Peeta and I had gone over the poem with the children for a week to be sure they knew all the words.

School closed for a couple of weeks around Christmas. In the past, I usually returned to my mother’s house during the winter closure, not wanting to impose on my host family’s holiday celebration.

But that year Phyl pled with me to stay with his family for Rye’s and Willow’s sake. As I had little desire to spend the holiday with my mother and stepfather in whose home I never felt very welcome, I stayed.

During my time away from the schoolroom, I entertained Phyl’s children, helping them make decorations to hang on the spruce tree that was placed in the parlor. It was the first time, since I was young that I enjoyed the holidays, exchanging small gifts with the family and joining them for services at Pastor Odair’s church.

My few days’ stay with Annie Odair had led to us becoming friends. We had so little in common, she being born and raised in Panem, rooted securely there, and now married and expecting, while I was only a temporary resident and alone. But I think we both were in need of a friend.

With the new year’s arrival, Phyl’s mourning ended. He joined Peeta and I and his children after our dinner in the parlor. Ignoring his children though, he often went out of his way to engage me in discussions about various topics of the day.

Peeta usually stood back during those times, focusing his attention on the children, while his brother and I spoke. I tried to bring Peeta into some of the discussions but he seemed hesitant to join in.

I wondered at the strange connection between the two brothers, who seemed so very different from each other yet worked together in the bakery.

On the day I caught sight of the first dandelion of the spring, Peeta shyly handed me a paper when he came to walk us home from school.

“Here look at this.”

His excitement made me think of my students who were so proud of their work. I looked down to see a letter addressed to him from Harpers New Monthly Magazine. Apparently he’d sent the editor some of his sketches and had gotten a note asking for more.

“That’s wonderful Peeta,” I exclaimed. I was so happy for him. Overjoyed to see the changes in him from when we’d first met. The nightmares were long gone. He had a look of peace and even contentment about him.

Peeta grinned. “It’s all due to you. Your encouragement has meant so much.”

“I may have lit the spark, but you did the work. You’re to be commended.”

He was standing so close to me, that I had the sudden urge to lean in and kiss his lips. I took a quick step backwards, in embarrassment.

I love him. The thought sounded in my head and it frightened me considerably. I doubted he felt anything romantic toward me and I certainly didn’t want to ruin our friendship that I had come to treasure.

One evening a month before school was to end, I somehow ended up alone in the parlor with Phyl. Sae had taken the children up to bed. Peeta was out, meeting with Pastor Odair over some church-related matter.

“Katniss, I’d like to speak with you. You’ve done a wonderful job with the children.”

“Thank-you. Everyone has worked so very hard this past school year.”

Phyl broke out into a grin that reminded me a bit of Peeta. “I don’t mean your students, although you’ve done a wonderful job with them too. I meant Rye and Willow. They’ve grown to care for you so much.”

“I care for them as well.”

“That good to hear. This has been a trying year for all of us. Would you consider staying longer in Panem?”

Had he talked to the board about it? Would they permit me to work a second year at the Panem School? It was rare that teachers were asked to stay a second year.

He must have noted the interest on my face because he continued. “You’ve fit into our household so well. Almost seamlessly from the first day.”

I smiled at his words. The Mellark household had surprisingly become home to me.

“You’re a smart woman so I’m sure you’ll see the sense in my proposition. I think we should get married. As soon as school ends. The children adore you and I’ve become quite fond of you as well.”

My mouth gaped in surprise. Marry Phyl? A sick sensation came over me.

Without waiting for an answer, he continued speaking. “You know it’s ironic that when the board hired you, I told Delly that we must have the teacher live with us. She’s older and I think she would be a fine match for Peeta. But with everything that’s happened, I’ve decided that you would be a better match for me.”

He smiled sweetly, and I supposed he meant it to be a compliment. But I was stunned at his words.

Furious that Phyl viewed Peeta and me as pawns in some game that he was playing. A game that I’d never consented to be part of, and I strongly doubted Peeta did either, although perhaps he’d become aware of it. It would certainly explain his odd behavior when I first arrived in Panem.

I was ready to lash out at Phyl, but I kept myself in check as I still worked for the man. “Thank you for your proposal. But I must refuse.”

Because I’m in love with your brother.

His face turned red, likely because he never even considered the possibility that I would turn down his most generous offer. His demeanor changed immediately. “Sorry to have troubled you Miss Everdeen. I thank you again for a fine job done at the Panem School. The board will give you an excellent reference.” He turned and left the parlor.

Surprisingly I heard of an unexpected marriage the very next day. Several students came to school with whispers that Cato Ableman and Clove Willis had quit school. Apparently the two had wed. I had known for some time that the young couple was sweet on each other, but I was surprised at the suddenness of the event. Even though I suspected the quick marriage was likely the result of improper behavior between the two, it made me jealous that the young pair had found comfort in each other, and all the more angry at Phyl Mellark’s proposal. Did the man expect me to jump at his offer when there had never been one indication of affection between us? Didn’t I deserve to be loved as well?

The next few days were awkward. Phyl limited his conversations with me at meals and returned to spending the evenings in his room. Fortunately Peeta and the children seemed oblivious of his mood and treated me the same as they always had.

One day after I’d walked the children home from school, I made an excuse to visit Annie. She had given birth to a son in late winter. Both were thriving.

Over a cup of tea, I poured out my heart to the woman, telling her of Phyl’s offer of marriage.

She shook her head in astonishment as I repeated his words.

“Finnick and I have been witness to the marriages of nearly every couple in this town for the past many years,” she said. “And we’ve both come to the firm conclusion that there must be some affection from the start if it is to be successful. I’m not saying it couldn’t work between you and Phyl, but if you don’t have tender feelings toward him already and he is more focused on the practicality of the matter, marriage with him would be burdensome. Life brings enough hardships of its own; there must be love to soften the blows.”

I wanted to ask her of the nature of Phyl’s and Delly’s marriage; surely her friend had said something about it, but it seemed much too personal a question.

Instead I mentioned Phyl’s comment about Peeta. How Phyl had wanted me to board at the Mellark house so that he could play matchmaker between Peeta and me.

“The ironic part is that Phyl’s plan worked. I do care for Peeta. But I don’t think he feels the same.”

“You might be surprised,” Annie said, as she tried to suppress a smile. “Does he know how you feel?”

I shook my head. Was I supposed to tell him? I was not brave in matters of the heart. Anyway, wouldn’t he have said something, done something to indicate his feelings if he felt the same?

A day later, I found myself alone in the parlor with Peeta, after Sae had taken the children upstairs to ready them for bed. I knew I had to say something. My job was ending in a few weeks.

I had been reading to the children from the upholstered chair, while Peeta had sat on the sofa with his nephew and niece listening.

As soon as Sae took them away, I stood up and made my way to the settee. I sat down next to Peeta, turning to face him and took a deep breath.

“Your brother asked for my hand in marriage.”

His face paled. “I suppose `congratulations’ are in order then,” he said stiffly.

“No, I turned him down.”

“Oh.” His face remained neutral and I couldn’t tell if he was happy at the news or not. “Why?”

My heart pounded in my chest so loudly that I was sure Peeta could hear it as well. “Because I’m in love with you.”

His eyes grew big and his mouth flew open like he couldn’t believe my words. He shifted his position, leaning forward on the sofa and staring at some fixed spot across the room.

“Katniss, you have no idea of the afflictions that haunt me. That will follow me all my life. Phyl would be ...”

A bubbling fury rose up within me, causing me to interrupt him before he could finish. “Don’t tell me how I should feel Peeta Mellark. I know what I want. And it’s you.”

Peeta’s head jerked back at my fierce answer. “Do you want this Katniss, a man who is maimed?”

He reached down and pulled up the edge of his left pant leg to past calf level. Everything that I saw was made entirely of wood.

I blinked a few times to gather my composure. Ever since I’d arrived in Panem several people had mentioned Peeta’s war injury to me, but I had never realized that he’d lost his leg. He walked so well with this wooden replacement. I had thought that he merely suffered a wound that caused a limp.

He must have seen the shock on my face because he started to explain, setting the scene of that horrible event that had changed his life.

“One moment Rye and I were joking about home, the next shells were crashing down on us. I looked to him and he was already struck down. I should have left him there, he was dead already, but I couldn’t and then another volley rained down and struck my leg. When I woke up the doc was sawing it off.”

His words were so awful that I stopped listening. It was a terrible tragedy he had suffered but he wasn’t the only one hurt by the war. I was not going to allow him to use it as an excuse to give up on life. To give up on me.

I leaned forward and stopped his lips with a kiss. Immediately I felt that thing again that I had felt in the meadow when he touched my arm. Only this time the sensation was more intense. After a few attempts, Peeta gave up on talking. He reached out and cupped my face holding me close.

The sensation inside me grew warmer and spread out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. I was ready to melt into him when I remembered our surroundings and came to my senses.

“I want you,” I panted, when I broke free of his lips.

His eyes were glazed over. I guessed he was in shock at my forward actions.

“I don’t care about your leg. And unless your heart is made of wood, too, I know you felt that. Don’t act so damn noble.”

His eyes darkened till they looked almost black and he reached out for me.

I don’t know how long we were on that settee. We broke apart when we heard Sae descending the stairs. By then Peeta was lying stretched out on top of me and my braid had fallen down and become unraveled. My hair was hanging loose about my face. Fortunately Sae went straight to her room located next to the kitchen.

We immediately moved to a seated position. I rebraided my hair and Peeta helped me find the hairpins that had fallen into the cushions so I could pin it back up.

Studying his flushed face, I wondered what he was thinking. Already I was mortified at my actions. Being so caught up in kisses and caresses that I’d lost all sense of decorum.

I stood up. “Good night Peeta.”

“Wait…” he began. But I fled upstairs.

Entering my room, I leaned my back against the door. I ran my hand over my bruised lips remembering our passion. I was a fool. Peeta had exchanged no words of love or admiration in response to my declaration and I’d thrown myself at him like a trollop.

I undressed and put on my nightclothes, crawling under the blanket. Peeta eventually came upstairs. I heard him open and close his door, and then open his window. He moved loudly about the room. Was he as unsettled as I?

Eventually I dozed off. I awoke with a brief, delicious feeling of happiness that was somehow connected with Peeta until I remember my actions the previous evening and sighed. At least I wouldn’t have to face him this morning as I expected he and Phyl were already at the bakery.

When I got out of bed, I noticed a paper had been pushed underneath my door. I picked it up. It was a sketch of me sitting on the settee with my hair hanging down around my face. My eyes were bright, my cheeks flushed, my lips swollen. The detail astonished me, but disconcerted me as well. He’d captured the intimacy of the moment perfectly, my desire for him showed plainly on my face.

Part of me wanted to destroy the artwork because it was so sensuous; it would embarrass me considerably if anyone were to see it. Yet, I didn’t want to damage it because I looked radiant. Is that how Peeta saw me? I studied it more and turned it over.

Meet me in the meadow after school, he’d written.

I took the drawing and hid it at the bottom of my trunk.

The day was endlessly long. I could hardly concentrate as I thought about what Peeta wished to see me about. I was sure he planned to continue his argument from the previous evening. I couldn’t force Peeta to have feelings for me and I certainly didn’t want to listen to him make a further case against my feelings for him, so I made up my mind to apologize. School would soon be over. I would return to my mother’s house and begin seeking employment for the next year. Phyl had promised me a good reference.

I dropped the children off with Sae after school, making an excuse to visit Annie. Willow whined and wanted to tag along. I felt awful about lying to everyone, but I couldn’t say that I was meeting up with Peeta.

He was in the meadow sketching when I arrived. I came up to his side. He was so absorbed by his drawing that he didn’t hear me approaching. I stood to the side and studied his face. The dark circles were back. Had he gotten any sleep?

“Peeta.” I whispered his name.

He turned to look at me. “You came.”

“I found your sketch underneath my door.”

An awkwardness fell over us, both likely remembering the previous evening.

“Why don’t we sit down,” Peeta said, pointing to the log.

“All right.” My heart pounded nervously. His expression was solemn and I wondered if he was angry with me.

We walked over to the fallen log we’d sat on last fall.

“I’m sorry about last night,” I blurted out. “I was too forward.”

He set his sketchbook down and reached for my hand. A shiver went down my back.

“No, Katniss, no. Don’t apologize for last night. It was more than I ever could have imagined.” The smile that appeared on his face indicated that he’d enjoyed himself as much as I had.

“I’ve gone about this all wrong. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you for being such a coward, for not speaking with you sooner. You are far bolder than I.

“I have no excuse,” he continued. “I was a goner from the first moment I set my eyes on you.”

He liked me from the very beginning? “You had a peculiar way of showing it. You spent the first few days we met in a snit.”

“Right before you came downstairs with Delly that first night, Phyl told me that he’d offered to board you because he thought we would be a fine match. I was angry with my brother for interfering in my life, not you Katniss. I waited outside the schoolhouse on that first day of school to apologize. But then I heard you singing, dear God your voice is so beautiful, and I lost all courage.”

“You followed me home from school that day, didn’t you?” It seemed so long ago that I’d forgotten all about it.

“Yes,” he mumbled, his cheeks growing pink. “Did you see me?”

I shook my head. I’d heard him, but didn’t see him.

He was still holding my hand. He turned it over and moved his thumb across my palm. The sensation was exquisite and made me tremble. He caught my eyes.

“I feel the same as you Katniss, probably more so. I love you. But you need to know what you are taking on with me. It’s more than just my leg.”

He let go of my hand and reached for his sketchbook. He opened it and flipped through several pages, and then turned the book toward me. The scene was revolting, men lying half dead, limbs missing, gaping wounds.

“What do you think?” he asked. “These scenes linger in my mind nearly every day. They still cause the occasional nightmare.”

He had brought the battlefield to life. I could almost smell the blood. Was he trying to shock me? Dissuade me from wanting him?

His playful manner with his young relatives, the intensity and detail he applied to his drawing, the physical desire he’d shown the previous evening – to me these things were evidence of Peeta’s true nature. I was not afraid of his defects; I surely had enough of my own.

“Does it help you to draw them?”

“I used to think it did. But now I’m not sure.” Peeta pulled the book away and turned to a page toward the front. “This subject helps me more.”

He showed me a sketch of myself and Rye and Willow walking home from school. The children were swinging their tin lunch buckets and I was holding my satchel. We were all laughing and I wondered if it was the day I’d told the story about Lady eating my mother’s hat.

My fingers reached out to touch the page. “It’s lovely.” I looked up at him. “Perhaps that’s the path you must take to find your way out of your pain. You must focus on the things that make you happy.”

I studied his tired countenance. “Peeta, do I make you happy?”

His face erupted into a big smile. “Very happy. You have no idea of the effect you have over me. You are the light that makes me see everything more sharply.”

He sprang up suddenly and bent his right knee in an awkward attempt at kneeling. It looked like he was bowing before me. “Katniss, you would do me a great honor if you’d let me spend the rest of my life showing you just how happy you make me.”

Unexpected happiness flooded my heart at Peeta’s romantic proposal. Accepting it would mean the end of my life as a schoolteacher, but I was more than ready to start the next chapter.

“I’ll allow it,” I murmured, as I stood up and put out my arm to help him upright. He leaned forward to meet my lips.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Peeta and I were married the day after school ended. Pastor Odair officiated and the school board agreed to let us serve cake and punch in the schoolhouse to anyone in town who cared to celebrate with us.

My mother and step-father attended the small ceremony, but my sister Prim was unable to join us as she was expecting her first child. I missed her sorely, but Peeta promised that we would visit her after the baby was born.

Phyl offered his congratulations at our engagement, but his felicitations seemed contrived to both of us. In light of his brother’s previous offer of marriage to me, Peeta thought it best that we move out of his family’s home after the wedding. He said it disturbed him that his brother had wanted to marry me. While I was sure Phyl’s offer had been made for strictly practical reasons, it secretly pleased me to see Peeta’s possessiveness. I’d never imagined that someone would be jealous for me.

“And while I love Rye and Willow dearly, it’s not our responsibility to care for them in the evenings either,” Peeta pointed out. “We will be newly wed. I want you all to myself Katniss.”

Fortunately there were rooms above the bakery that Peeta’s parents had lived in when they first married that were available to us.

As we left our wedding party to commence our honeymoon Peeta turned to me in the carriage and gave me a sly grin. “I guess you’ve finally met the man who was looking for a prickly woman.”

I laughed at my husband. Over our short engagement we’d become so at ease in sharing our feelings with each other that I didn’t hesitate to make a joke that would have been in very poor taste just weeks earlier. “Don’t make fun of me Peeta, or I’ll hide your leg this evening after you fall asleep.”

“You’re funny, Katniss, if you think I have any plans of sleeping tonight.”

His self-assurance made me blush. But I was as eager as he to begin that portion of our new life together. A life that would bear witness to the fact that in spite of loss it can be good again.

Author’s Notes: One-room schoolhouses, in which students of all ages and skills attended, were common in the United States in the nineteenth century. Teachers tended to be young, unmarried women; in fact married women were forbidden from teaching. The job paid poorly and the majority of teachers boarded with the families of students. Some states required teachers to have at least a year of specialized training, other states mandated that teachers only pass a written exam. The school year varied in length from 29 to 41 weeks; the schedule was set by each school district.
The U.S. Civil War was fought from 1861-1865.
English writer Jane Austin’s (1775-1817) romantic novels were steady sellers in the 19th century, although they were not bestsellers.
McGuffey readers were the most popular and best-know schoolbooks in American education. The author, William Holmes McGuffey started his teaching career at a one-room schoolhouse when he was fourteen years old. Years later, when he was a college professor, he worked with a publishing house to compile the first four McGuffey readers. The series consisted of stories, essays, poems, and speeches that emphasized strength, character, goodness, and truth. It’s estimated that 120 million readers were sold between 1836 and 1960.
While school hours varied at every school, most one-room schools were in session from 9:15 a.m. to 4 p.m., with a lunch break of at least an hour to allow students the opportunity to eat at home.
Harpers New Monthly Magazine first began publishing in 1850. The magazine featured the work of American artists and writers. It is still in operation and is now know as Harpers Magazine.
The churchyard (the land surrounding a church) was the most common burial site for the dead in the nineteenth century; however, people who owned property often had a family plot on their land.
The 16th volunteer regiment from Connecticut was mustered in 1862. It was made up of men from some of the best and most well-off families in Hartford County. The men were barely trained and were ordered into battle at Antietam on September 17, 1862. Within minutes, the 16th volunteer regiment lost a quarter of its men. Later in the war, almost all the remaining men in the 16th volunteer regiment were captured and sent to prison at Andersonville, where a third of that number died of disease.
The Battle of Antietam (or The Battle of Sharpsburg, as it often called in the South) was the bloodiest day in American history with more than a combined total of 22,000 casualties from both sides.
At the beginning of the U.S. Civil War the North relied on volunteers to make up the military. Two years later, President Abraham Lincoln issued a draft, however men could hire a substitute to take their place or pay $300 to get out of the obligation.
Connecticut is called the birthplace of mining in America. Currently there are over 600 abandoned mines in the state. In the 1800s, miners searched for copper and barite.
The Arrow and the Song by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was published in 1845.
Although the exact total isn’t known, it’s estimated that doctors performed around 60,000 amputations during the U.S. Civil War. Many were done without anesthesia.
Almost 150 patents were issued for artificial limb designs between 1861 and 1873, as the industry expanded because of the veteran population. In 1862, the U.S. federal government allocated soldiers $75 to buy an artificial leg and $50 for an artificial arm.

Chapter Text

Epilogue

Peeta and I left on our honeymoon in high spirits, both of us looking forward to the evening ahead. We traveled by carriage to Lake Compounce, a most delightful area for sightseers to enjoy the lake and the amenities that surrounded it -- walking paths, gardens and picnic areas.

Our wedding night was fraught with a nervous excitement for both of us. I was a virgin, and although he never said it, I am fairly certain that Peeta had never been with a woman before me.

It was true that we slept little that night, but it wasn’t because we spent the night in a frenzy of sensual passion. Quite the contrary. After sharing a tender consummation of our love in our darkened hotel room, we both fell asleep.

I awoke a few hours later with blows to my face and shoulder. Naked, I rose quickly from the bed and reached for my dressing gown. I lit the bedside lamp to find Peeta thrashing about in his sleep. I shook him awake. At first he seemed surprised to see me beside him, perhaps he thought it was all a part of his dream. But then he noticed the red mark on my cheek. He ghosted his hand over it.

“I’m sorry Katniss. With the nightmares I have, I should have known better than to wed.”

His comment brought angry tears to my eyes. As they spilled onto my cheeks, Peeta wiped them away with his hand, all the while murmuring his apologies.

“Tell me what you dreamed,” I insisted. “Maybe I can help.”

Peeta frowned as if he doubted my words, but he answered me. “It is the same dream every time. The panic of the ball striking my leg. The moment of my brother’s death. I cannot seem to get past it.”

My hand reached down beneath the blankets and landed on his left thigh. “May I see your leg?”

His face paled. “I don’t think…”

But I wasn’t waiting for Peeta’s permission. Earlier that day, Pastor Odair had declared us to be one flesh. And for a time that evening it had been true. We had become one. Now I was determined to see his leg for myself. He had dimmed the light earlier when he’d removed his wooden limb and I had looked away in modesty for he was only wearing his drawers.

But I was bolder now. I slid my hand down his bare thigh to meet a calloused stump where I supposed his knee ought to be.

He winced at my touch.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

Slowly I lifted the blanket away to reveal his shortened limb. Even in the dim light, it looked to be thickly scarred and slightly reddened. I would be lying if I didn’t say the sight shocked me.

My face must have revealed my emotions because my thoughts were interrupted by Peeta’s voice.

“Look at me Katniss.”

I lifted my head up to stare at his darkened eyes, noting the distress in them.

“I’m sorry,” he began, but I didn’t want his apology for something that was brought upon him. He was not at fault for the loss of his leg. He had been a sixteen-year-old boy caught up in a war, fighting for a cause that had been simmering long before his birth. And what was the prize for his youthful fervor? A lifetime of shame and embarrassment. Violent dreams and a missing limb.

My authoritative nature which had served me well in the classroom and not always so well in my personal life, refused to allow me to give up on Peeta.

“Stop it,” I chided him. “You are not at fault here. You’re my husband now. We’ll figure this out together.”

I twisted my body to turn off the lamp on the nearby side table. Then I fell into Peeta’s arms. We lay awake in the dark talking to each other for hours. Eventually we fell asleep, not waking until lunch.

We spent three nights at the hotel near the lake, taking daily carriage rides, picnicking on the water’s shore, listening to band concerts every night. Peeta didn’t have any more nightmares.

By the time we returned to Panem, to our rooms over the bakery we were much more at ease with each other, having bared not only our bodies, but our hearts to each other.

Before we’d left, Peeta had hired someone to clean the living quarters above the bakery, and move some furniture from the Mellark house over for us to use. Our new home consisted of a parlor, a small bedroom and a fair-sized kitchen, complete with a dining table.

Fortunately, Peeta knew how to cook. “I spent a lot of time with Sae in the kitchen when I was little trying to hide away from my mother.”

“Was she so awful?”

Peeta nodded. “She was. She was quite unkind to Delly when she first wed Phyl.”

I was secretly glad not to have met the original Mrs. Mellark.

Married life was so different from my life as a teacher. I was bored silly. After spending one morning tidying up our small lodgings, I went to visit Annie and her son. “Whatever do you do all day? ”

She told me about several different ladies clubs attended by the women of Panem, but as I lacked most domestic skills, I had no interest in meeting others to sew, or knit, or make quilts.

Finally after a few restless weeks, I asked Peeta if I could join him to work in the bakery.

“Phyl and I have things covered,” he replied.

“So, I’ll only get in the way then?”

He scowled. “I’ll talk to my brother about it.” I almost told him to forget it, as it was apparent that he didn’t want to discuss the matter with Phyl. He hadn’t told me, but I suspected that the two were not getting along so well lately and our marriage was the reason.

But I needn’t have worried. Apparently Phyl decided to take a leave from the bakery after hearing of my interest. He’d always wanted to write a book about the history of Panem and the contribution of its male residents in fighting for the Union cause. With his children away for the summer visiting their grandparents, the timing was good as he could devote the entire day to his work.

So a week later, I found myself downstairs with Peeta learning to bake. I was determined to be a boon to my husband.

By the time fall arrived, I was an efficient baker. Phyl had finished his book and traveled to Boston to seek a publisher for it. Peeta and I moved into the Mellark family house to watch over Willow and Rye while he was gone. I enjoyed my role as auntie to the two children, even working with them in the evenings with the lessons the new teacher assigned to them.

Phyl returned six weeks later with a book contract and a new wife. Her name was Madge Hawthorne. She was the mother of a ten-year-old daughter and the widow of a soldier.

Her graciousness and sweet demeanor helped to diffuse the tension between the two brothers. We became frequent dinner guests at their home, and even entertained the couple in our tiny rooms above the bakery.

Madge’s father had been mayor of a small town in Massachusetts and she seemed a good match for Phyl, supporting his political ambitions. Less than six months later, Phyl ran a successful campaign and was named mayor of Panem.

During that first year of our marriage, Peeta and I also paid a visit to my sister Prim’s family. Prim had given birth to a son a few months after our wedding.

Being so often around young relatives, prompted Peeta to share his desire to have children of his own.

“You’d make a great mother,” he told me regularly.

It was something I’d hardly considered so certain was I that I’d spend my life as a spinster schoolteacher. But as Peeta wanted them so badly, my thoughts became altered, especially as I observed his interactions with those children.

My husband had so changed from the grim man I’d first encountered when I came to Panem. He had moved far beyond the solitary place where he’d been living ever since the war. His nightmares had become infrequent. He was pursuing his talent as an artist, obtaining regular work as an illustrator for a couple of magazines.

By the time of our first wedding anniversary, I was the only Mellark working regularly in the bakery, alongside a paid staff. It wasn’t necessary that I work there, the brothers had the financial means to run the operation entirely with hired help, but I liked to keep myself busy. At least for the next few months while I could still show myself in public.

“We’ll have to move,” Peeta pointed out. Our rooms above the bakery were too small and noisy to house the child I was now bearing.

Peeta purchased a small lot on the edge of town to build a house for us. He designed the floor plan himself. All the rooms were to be on a single level. Although he didn’t say it, I knew it was because of his leg. His wooden limb was causing him pain. Many days he resorted to using crutches instead of attaching it.

Soon after the house was completed, we traveled to Boston so he could be fitted for a new limb. It was getting close to my time of delivery, but I didn’t want to stay home alone.

We spent a week in that large city, time enough for final adjustments to be made to Peeta’s new leg and for him to practice walking on it before traveling back by carriage to Panem.

“You’ve been strangely silent,” Peeta commented, as we got closer to home.

I bit my lip and scowled. “I believe my labor has started.”

Alarm swept over his face. “Katniss, why did you keep it secret from me? We must stop now and get help.”

I shook my head. “We’ll be home in a less than hour. I want to have the child in our bed, not alongside the road in a stranger’s house.

Peeta yelled out the window for the driver to hurry.

When we arrived home, I needed assistance getting down from the carriage. My dress was wet, my waters having broke during the last miles of our ride.

Peeta came in the house with me, but not before begging the driver to hurry to Dr. Latier’s house and bring him back.

I went into our room and pulled the quilt off the bed. I took off my wet dress and drawers leaving only my shift on, all the while experiencing sharp pains that were getting progressively worse.

“Go to the front door and wait for the doctor,” I told Peeta in a brief moment of clarity between birth pangs.

“I’m not leaving you alone. He’ll knock when he gets here.”

“You can’t expect to stay with me.” I was hysterical in my plea. I did not want Peeta to see me in this out-of-control state. Men were not meant to witness the suffering that their wives went through during childbirth.

“I can’t leave you.”

I felt a strong pressure in my lower body, a distinct urge to push. Could the child be coming so soon? Annie had told me that her labor lasted far longer than the few hours I had already been in torment.

The grimace on my face must have indicated to Peeta that the child was ready to meet us.

“Lie on the bed Katniss and pull your knees up.”

Mortified, I did as Peeta commanded. The position left my naked body fully exposed to my husband, giving him a view I’d only occasionally allowed him during our most private moments. The embarrassment would have been overwhelming if it weren’t for my extreme discomfort. I cried out in anguish.

An odd look came over Peeta. “I think I see the baby’s head.”

He sat on the bed in front of me and put out his hands to catch the infant. A minute or two later, my body had pushed the child out completely. Peeta held the babe close to his chest. The squalling infant was bloody and covered with a chalky coating. Peeta’s hands, even his clothing, was streaked with blood.

Lifting my eyes, I took in my husband’s countenance. An expression of profound awe sat on his face.

“You have given us a daughter.” His voice was hoarse, full of amazement.

I thought of him holding another person that was covered with blood, his dying brother. Would the wonder of this moment cancel out the despair of that other, grievous one?

A loud pounding interrupted my thoughts.

“It must Dr. Latier,” I said.

Peeta seemed in a daze, lost in the worship of his daughter, ignoring the thumps on our front door.

“Peeta, give her to me and open the door.”

He blinked a few times and looked toward me. “Oh, sorry.” He pulled a pocketknife from his coat and cut her free from her the cord that still connected her to my body. “Will you hold her Katniss?”

“Yes.” I stretched out my legs and pulled my shift down for modesty. Already blood was seeping through the sheer muslin cloth. I scooted backwards on the bed, propping myself up against the brass headboard.

I put out my arms to hold the child.

Peeta hurried off to the open the door.

Our daughter’s alert eyes stared back at me. They were bright blue, the same as my husband’s. I knew that babies’ eyes often changed color as they got older, but I sincerely hoped that hers would remain the same hue as Peeta’s.

A strange sensation of lightheadedness came over me. A bit of nausea. I shivered. I heard Peeta talking with the doctor. Why didn’t they come to me? I needed a blanket. I was so cold.

I set the baby down beside me, before everything went black.

“Katniss.” I heard Peeta’s shout, but I couldn’t respond. I was lost in a gauzy, violet-tinted world with no hard edges.

Specters surrounded me. I hugged my father, his firm arms reminding me so much of Peeta’s. I spoke with Delly at length about my daughter, noticing a tall man standing near listening in. His smile was that of a Mellark, and I knew without a doubt that he must be Rye. There were others there too. I did not recognize them all, but I sensed they knew me very well.

The air was thick with a feeling of belonging. I did not want to leave that setting, but something tugged at my heart, a thick string, the kind used in the bakery to tie up the wrapped loaves of bread.

Peeta held fast to the other end of it. Ever so slowly he drew me from that realm and back to the land of flesh and blood.

“Katniss.” He was sitting in a chair at my side when my eyes opened.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

I wanted to tell him about what I’d seen. But my mouth was dry and I could only move my lips.

“The baby is fine,” he said, assuming that was my concern. “Dr. Latier knew of someone who could nurse her.”

I nodded, embarrassed that my first thought had not been for the child. But she was so new to me still. I did not yet know her.

He propped up my head and gave me some water. I swallowed it slowly, gratefully.

When I was done, Peeta sat on the edge of the bed and gathered me to himself.

“Peeta.” My voice was raspy. I caught his eyes, noting that they were blood-shot and red-rimmed. Dark circles hung beneath them. Why had his appearance changed so?

“Save your voice. You’ve been asleep for over a day.”

How was that possible? It seemed like only a few minutes had passed since I’d given birth. “What …?

“You lost a great amount of blood. Dr. Latier didn’t think you’d make it, but Annie knew of an old midwife. She massaged your belly and was able to slow the bleeding.

He stood up and went to the door, shouting for Madge.

My sister-in-law entered the room, a relieved smile on her face. “Oh Katniss, I’m so glad you’re awake. It’s a miracle.”

It took me a long while to gain my strength back. Plenty of time to lie abed and think. Had I been transported to the gates of heaven or was it a merely a dream?

It wasn’t until weeks later, after my mother’s and sister’s visit to us, that I came to tell Peeta of the fantastical vision I had while I lingered between two worlds.

His eyes opened wide at my description. I was so pleased that he believed me. In fact, he peppered me for details, especially concerning his late brother.

“Was Rye happy in that place?”

“I believe so. I was happy. I have never known such peace before.”

A fearful look came over him. “Well, I am glad you chose to return then. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t.”

I met his eyes trying to reassure him. “I had no choice Peeta. Even in that place, I could feel you tugging me back. I do believe we were destined to be together.”

He smiled and reached for my hand.

Later, after our girl Hope fell asleep in her cradle on the other side of the room, Peeta returned to our bed for the first time since her birth showing me exactly how glad he was that I had returned to him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Happiness is a fleeting emotion. We can chase after it but never catch it. It is only when we stop and sit still that we can see it all around us. If we are fortunate it might land on the curve of our wrist for a brief moment taking the shape of a beautiful green and silver moth.

I have been truly blessed in my marriage to Peeta because that lovely moth has sat on my wrist many a time. But on those days when happiness eludes me, when old habits and old ways of thinking plague me, I remind myself of President Lincoln’s sage advice. People are as happy as they make up their minds to be.

I take a deep breath, count my blessings, and choose to be happy.

The End

Author’s Note: Lake Compounce Park in Connecticut was established in 1846 as a gathering spot for picnics, band concerts, public swimming and rowing on the lake. It featured a gazebo and had public walking paths, along with a few carnival-type rides. It was a popular gathering spot in the post Civil War era. Over the years the amenities at Lake Compounce were greatly enhanced. Today it is the oldest, continuously-operating amusement park in the United States.

The most common cause of postpartum hemorrhage occurs when the uterus does not contract after birth. This allows the uterus to continue bleeding, and can result in massive blood loss. Other causes of postpartum hemorrhage include failure to pass the entire placenta, forced removal of the placenta, and trauma to the uterus, cervix or vagina during delivery.